My Silent Leukemia
by Maria Paige
Summary: Bella has had cancer twice already. The doctors say that she can't ever get cancer again by the time she is 18. What happens when she wants to move to Forks two weeks before her 18th birthday? Will she ever be able to hide her cancer from the world?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the twilight series. **

**Prologue **

**"It's funny, how most people can define someone by one word. For some people that word is jock, prep, goth, nerd, or punk. Cancer. My word is Cancer. My name is Isabella Swan. I'm seventeen years old. Unlike most teenagers, I'm not normal. I'm not classified as weird, popular, or anything in between. I'm classified as the girl who has had cancer twice already."  
**

When I was six years old, I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. It took me only eighteen days to get into remission. The doctors said that if you had to have cancer, my case was the best to have. It was the most curable form of childhood cancer, and it was low risk too. For the next two and a half years I was treated with countless chemotherapies, steroids, and other medicines that made me feel terrible. I constantly had to go into the hospital to get spinal taps and bone marrow biopsies. I was nine years old, and things were looking up. They hadn't found a single cancer cell in me for two years. In cancer terms, that means that I was off treatment. That means I was cured.

One day, when I was eleven, my mom decided that I needed my first bra. She took me to the store, and had me try on a few. While I was in the changing room, my mom threw back a yellow bra. It wasn't like the other sports bras that I had been trying on; it was a real bra with a hooked back and everything. I tried it on, but I couldn't get the back hooked. My mom asked me if it fit, and I told her that I couldn't get it on. So my mom, being the over protective mother that she is, decided to practically leap in the changing room to help me. When she saw me, all of the color in her face drained. She was as white as a ghost. She stood there for a few seconds, her eyes wide. She was frozen. My face must've been so twisted in confusion, because she finally snapped out of it.

"Put your clothes back on, we're leaving," She was choking back tears. I thought that maybe she just couldn't stand to see her baby girl growing up so fast. I didn't want to leave.

"What? Why? This is so unfair!"

"NOW Isabella Marie! We are leaving NOW!" She used my full name. That meant that I was in trouble. I put my clothes on, and quickly followed her out of the store to the car. We didn't buy anything. She started driving, and she wasn't saying a word to me. I didn't dare to say a word to her either. I thought that I did something wrong. She flipped out her orange cell phone. I remember how proud she was to buy that cell phone. It was one of those Sprint Charity phones. Whenever you buy one, half of the money you spend on it goes to the charity that the phone is assigned. Since that one was orange, it went to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and she was very proud to say that her kid was a survivor. She started dialing numbers. Because of how quickly she dialed them; I knew that it was one of two people. It was either my dad Charlie, or my Oncologist Paige. She's had those numbers engraved in her head since the day dad got a job as a cop, and the day I was first diagnosed.

My mom was full on crying when the phone started ringing. I didn't know what was going on, so I was silently praying that she wasn't mad at me, and that I didn't hurt her. "Can I please speak to Officer Charlie?" She was trying real hard to sound like she wasn't crying, but I didn't think that she was doing too well. "It's an emergency, I need to speak to him now!" It hit me. The word emergency hit me. Whenever you hear the word emergency in our house it means that something isn't good. Let me rephrase that, something is very wrong, and unfortunately, it usually has to do with my health. I blocked out the rest of the conversation on the phone, and decided to look out the window instead. We were driving very quickly; we were passing all of the other cars, but what I noticed the most is that we weren't driving home. We weren't driving to the station. I knew where we were going by now. We've been down this road it seems a million, dreaded times. This was the road to all the spinal taps, all the clinic visits, all the bone marrow biopsies, all the screams, all the crying, and all of the port accesses. This was the road to Children's Hospital in Arizona. It was a fifteen-minute drive from my house, but my parents hold the record. They can make it there in only five minutes, three minutes when we have the police cruiser. When we arrived at the hospital, my dad was already there, waiting for us. My mom took me inside the hospital, and didn't even check in. She grabbed my hand and ran my father and me to the oncology wing. As we were running down the hallway to Paige's office, many of the nurses greeted us by name, but also had a look of sorrow. They knew what was happening. I knew what was happening, but I don't think I let myself even begin to believe it.

I found out that my mom had seen a trail of huge black and blue bruises on my spine, lining up like jewels in a necklace. That day, we found out that I had relapsed. My leukemia had come back in an aggressive form. The process started over again, two and a half more years of crap. This time it was worse, and my parents constantly feared I wasn't going to make it. I was still a day patient, so I still went to school sometimes, but this time, if I did so much as cough once, it was straight to the hospital. My parents didn't cope with me having cancer too well this time. They divorced. They said it wasn't my fault, and that it had nothing to do with me, but I knew it did. The only thing that they ever fought about was cancer, and I had cancer.

After two and a half years, when I was thirteen, I was cured again. The doctor said that now there was only a two percent chance of relapse, and after 5 years of no relapse, there was a zero percent change of relapse, in the cancer world that's great, by the time I was eighteen, I'd have no worries in the world. I lived with my mom, as my dad moved to Forks, Washington. My hair grew back, and I started to have a few friends, but was still known as the girl who had cancer. Everyone felt bad for you, and nothing really changed in the way people treated you. That's when I decided to move to forks, right before my eighteenth birthday.

**Thanks for reading! Please take the time to tell me how I'm doing in a review! **

**There will be a new chapter soon if you all like it!**

**-Maria Paige**


	2. Chapter 1

**I love the fabulous people who have taken the time to write an awesome review, or send me a nice message. This chapter is dedicated to:** **XxXSivlerShadowXxX, Snowpatrolvampire, Starldy678, Randomenated-Cullen, Goten4eva, Materialgirl-loz, darkangel856, Swimfan13413, Araylas, and Ms. Kiera and Ms. Maria. Thanks everyone who also alerted and faved!**

Most parents of kids with cancer can agree that swear words can be used tastefully. Now believe me, before this whole cancer thing, my parents would never swear in front of me. In fact, if I said so much as the word 'butt' I was sent to my room. By the time I was eleven, my parents agreed that it would be okay for me to give the finger to anyone who was laughing at my bald head. When you're a parent to a kid with cancer, normal things start to not matter as much.

Chapter One: Phone Calls

I took a deep breath. I think about it as a port access. The quicker you let the nurse take a whack at getting that central line in you, the quicker you are well, and out of the hospital. In this case though, it was more like the quicker I tell Renee, let her yell at me, tell me I'm crazy, and calm down, the quicker I am out of here. I approached her from the living room. She was humming in the kitchen. I'm not sure what song it was, because Renee never could hit all the notes while singing... or humming for that matter. I took another deep breath, and took my first step into the kitchen. Hopefully, it would be my first step to freedom from this god-forsaken place.

Renee was doing the dishes by hand, our dish washer had broken some time ago, and she decided that it was a sign from god that we should take our time and not rush things in life. I think she's just a crazy woman who doesn't want to spend money on a new dishwasher. "Hey Mom," I picked up a dish from the side of the sink, and dipped it in the cold water. It felt good on my skin, as it has been affected by the dry, Arizonan weather.

"Well, what do you know? My daughter has finally, after eighteen years, decided to do chores with out me asking." She laughed and walked away from the sink and to the cupboard. She grabbed a pan and placed it on the stove as she went to rummage through the fridge for something slightly edible. I turned back to the dishes, and dipped another plate into the cool, soapy water. I heard Renee shut the fridge, and open the door to the pantry. She must be having a hard time finding something good. I wait until I hear her grab a bag from the freezer, and place the frozen pouch on the counter until I open my mouth again.

"Hey mom?" She gave me a slight hmm, which means she's probably not paying too much attention. I guess I'm just really lucky today. "Do you think... do you think I could go to dad's for the next school year. You know, well, it's just a thought." I squinted my eyes close, and practically crossed my fingers, hoping that she would just give me another 'hmm' or a 'sure honey, whatever you want'. Knowing Renee, that wasn't going to happen. For a second, there was silence. Next here comes the yelling at me part.

"Isabella Marie! Damn you! You know how I feel about you living with your father! You know he can't handle the stress! He couldn't handle the stress when he was here, he can't handle the stress there!" I was completely right. She started yelling; she always yells when someone brings up Charlie.

"Mom, I-" she cut me off now.

"Isabella, NO! You aren't going to live with your father, and that's final!"

"Mom! Listen to me!" She was about to tell me no, but she saw that I almost in tears. I learned that trick a while ago, but I haven't used it since I was around eight years old. It works like a charm, especially when you had cancer. "Mom, I don't have any real friends here. It's the perfect time to go. It's my senior year in two weeks, and maybe I can live one year normally without everyone feeling bad for me all the time! Maybe for once, not everyone will know that I had cancer!" She cringed at the c-word. Suddenly she realized what I knew, and tried to cover it up.

"Honey, I know that…" She stepped towards me and put her hand on my shoulder "and I didn't mean what I said. Charlie just can't handle having a kid. This has nothing to do with you having cancer." She put on a fake smile; it's the one that she's used all the time.

"Mom, I know that he left us, because he couldn't handle the relapse," She looked away. I was right. "Plus, I'm eighteen in two months… I can't get cancer, because after five years of-"

"no relapse, there's no chance for it to come back… I know honey" My mom sighed, and then sat there for a long time, or at least what seemed like a long time, and she just gazed at me, most likely putting herself in my shoes. "Fine."

"What?" I didn't believe her, or I didn't hear her right.

"Fine, you can go." I did hear her right! If I could really express how I was feeling right now, my mom probably would've sent me to a mental institute; I would've been jumping with joy. She handed me the phone, "But you're calling your dad,"... That feeling of joy went away quicker than it came. God damn it.

I looked at the phone for a second. Perhaps I was deciding whether or not to actually call.. not that I would know. I already had a huge headache from the conversation that was about to happen. My mom shooed me out of the kitchen, and I plopped down on the purple living room couch. I took the phone, and dialed the number. The phone was silent for a second, and then it started ringing. It rang once…no answer. It rang twice…no answer. It rang three times… no ans- "Hello, Charlie speaking". I opened my mouth, but not a sound escaped from me. "Hello, is anyone there?"

"Uhhh, yes… um, hi dad. It's me, Bella," Well, that sounded lame, but at least I croaked something out.

"Oh, um, Hi Bella. How are you?" He meant medically.

"I'm fine," I nodded my head, although I knew he couldn't see it.

"So…may I ask the occasion of why you are calling?" I laughed, although it wasn't funny. It was out of nerves.

"Umm, I was wondering, if, you know, I could, uh, stay with you for a while?" This time I actually did cross my fingers.

When he spoke, he spoke softly. It calmed me down. "Of course, Bella. You're welcome anytime. When do you want to? And how long?"

"Would in a week work for you? And I was hoping… um, the rest of the school year?"

"Oh! Wow… If it's okay with Renee, then I guess you could. I have a spare room for you, and the school is great here." I sighed. I was very relieved that my plan actually worked. "Bella? Could you put your mom on the phone?"

Uh-Oh.. that meant trouble. "Um, yeah. I'll go get her," I went from the living room, back to the kitchen, and handed the phone to my mom. "He wants to talk to you". She reluctantly grabbed the phone and shooed me off. I could hear from my room part of the conversation. I heard 'no relapse, 18, good doctor, hospital near by, and a lot more.' What were they planning? Were they planning for me to have some huge emergency? Well, let me say one thing. That will never happen.

**Thanks for reading! Please review! (And either in a review or PM tell me if you want vampires. I wanted all human, but vampires might be cool). I plan on updating once a week. I'm going for quality rather than quantity. During the summer, there will be way more updates!**

**Also, quite a few of you have asked in PMs, and yes I did have leukemia. Once when I was six, and once when I was ten. YES, I am fine now. Some of this story (ok, so all of the medical stuff) is true, and so are a lot of the emotions. **


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